


We Will Heal

by Cumberbatch Critter (ivelostmyspectacles)



Category: Houdini & Doyle (TV)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Harry needs lots of hugs, Pre-Relationship, Shippy Gen, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-22
Updated: 2016-06-22
Packaged: 2018-07-16 14:47:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7272490
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ivelostmyspectacles/pseuds/Cumberbatch%20Critter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"So... Houdini's mum, huh?"</p><p>"What about her?"</p><p>[Spoilers for 1x08]</p>
            </blockquote>





	We Will Heal

**Author's Note:**

> We had some nasty weather, so I really only got to watch about 20 minutes of last night's ep, but that last, what, one minute? Like? No. Anyway, I'm sure they'll mention more about it next episode, and my fic won't match up, but I wanted to write out some feels before Monday.
> 
> Ignore any inaccuracies, please! (And typos...)
> 
> I do not own _Houdini & Doyle_. Thanks for reading!

He read it in the paper, the day after. It was splashed all across the headlines, as if anyone needed the larger print to start a round of gossip or well-placed sympathy. It was unavoidable, and Doyle had known nothing of it prior.

_MOTHER OF ACCLAIMED MAGICIAN HARRY HOUDINI DECEASED_

He read it in the paper, the day after the funeral, and he dropped what he was doing and grabbed his hat and went.

　

　

She heard about it in the precinct, the day after. It had been a trying few days, and her newspapers laid piled at her door.

"So... Houdini's mum, huh?"

Adelaide looked up. "What about her?"

"She died. Didn't you know?"

She hadn't. "What! When!"

"Three days ago, evidently. They buried her yesterday. Wasted no time, I guess."

She heard about it in the precinct, the day after the funeral, and she left without saying another word.

　

　

Expecting visitors was a part of the week of mourning, and Harry knew that, but he also did not expect to find his two friends standing on his doorstep at the same time.

This was very much a conversation that he did not wish to have, but one that he knew was coming nonetheless.

He straightened the black jacket, cleared his throat, and greeted them tiredly. "Doyle. Constab-" Adelaide stepped forward determinedly, the one to initiate the hug that broke Houdini from his greeting. Of all of the hugs, Adelaide's was the one that made him hurt worst of all. Because it was undoubtedly the most genuine, and his heartstrings were already torn asunder as it were.

Harry met Doyle's eyes over Adelaide's shoulder. There was sadness, and pity, and Harry's own eyes reflected back at him, face unshaven, shoulders slumped in despair. He closed his eyes, and wrapped his arms around Adelaide in return. "Thank you," he said softly.

"You should have told us," Adelaide accused, but it was gentle, no anger reserved for him in this uncertain time in his life. Adelaide did not let go of him, and Harry wished that she did not ever have to.

Houdini nodded his assent, a slight dip of his head. "Yeah... well, everything just happened so fast." These things tended to, which Harry hated. He would have liked just one more day to sit with her, just one more. But Mama deserved better than that. "No one else knew, either." He licked his lips. "If that helps, I mean."

Adelaide pulled away, tenuous fingers gripping at his shoulders. Her gaze was gentle, and kind, and still full of a pity that may have made Houdini's blood boil had he not been emotionally drained, but it was... comforting. "You should have told us," she repeated. "We would have been here."

Harry smiled thinly. "You're here now!" he said, intending to blunt it into almost a joke. It didn't come out that way.

"We are." Adelaide nodded, and her fingers squeezed at his shoulders before stepping away.

Harry swallowed against the lump in his throat, the one that didn't seem to go away these days. He turned his attention to Doyle, and raised an inquiring eyebrow. "Are you going to hug me, too?"

A slight smile, and a "I promise not to linger" preceded the hug that Houdini did not ultimately expect to get. But he returned it graciously nonetheless, albeit with a little noise of discontent and a muttered "you're crushing me, Doyle".

"I am sorry, Harry. Both of us."

"Yeah, I am..." His voice was unnaturally thin. He cleared his throat again. "I am, too." He didn't know what else to say, just as he hadn't for the past few days. But Adelaide and Doyle were looking at him sadly, and Harry floundered for something, _anything_ , so that he didn't have to stand in front of them feeling so helpless. "Come in, then," he said, gesturing towards the room. "I'm assuming you didn't come all this way to stand there. Unless you did. In which case, I'm going to go sit down, anyway."

He still hadn't gotten the feeling back in his body. His mind felt blank, cobwebs stretching across the corners, dust settling on memories he couldn't think of now. He would not admit that the day after finding Ma, he'd gone to greet her for breakfast only to come up empty. The next thing he knew, he had been picking himself off the floor, blearily blinking back to consciousness, to find it wasn't a dream, but reality. His hands had been shaking ever since, and his heartbeat felt loud in his ears.

He wished that he could sleep through this, but he hadn't been doing well on that front, either. So, push through.

Harry led the way doggedly, wearing the same path into the floor of all his well-wishers. He did not look in the mirror on the way. He didn't want to see himself just then. Besides, the black crepe did its purpose, and he couldn't if he wanted to. Fingers curled into his palms, and he said that he was going to get them drinks.

"I'll get them," Doyle interrupted. "Anything in particular?"

"Anything is fine for me," Adelaide said.

Harry shrugged. None of it mattered to him, either. Doyle went, and Houdini was left with Adelaide and the silence and the dreariness of a room with drapes drawn tightly. He blinked once, twice, twisting his hands together.

"You can sit down, Harry," Adelaide said softly.

"I can sit in my own house, what a concept!" He caught the look of surprise on Adelaide's face, and cringed as he heard the words play back in his mind. "U-Umm, I-"

"It's fine." She waved his explanation away. "I know how it feels, losing the one person in your life that... brings the light into it." She smiled sadly, and there was an infinite amount of desolation in her eyes, more than Houdini had ever noticed before. "I know."

"Ma... she, she wasn't the only one," Harry said slowly. "There are others, I mean." People that made his life worth living. One of them was sat on the sofa in front of him. He could not say that right now, either.

"She was your mother, Harry. No one can equal how much you loved her. How much she loved you."

"Yeah." The word caught in his throat. He swallowed. And felt the aching prickle behind his eyelids return again. No, no. "Yeah..." he murmured again, and his voice cracked around the word. Oh, _no_. "She was..." Stop talking. "She was... good," he rasped. Why are you still talking? "And deserved everything I didn't give her." Stop. "If I had just..." he trailed off, teeth sinking into his lip. "We were going to go to New York."

Aaaaand _there_ were the tears. Fantastic! He turned half a step again, crushing the heels of his hands into his eyes. "Sorry," he said weakly.

"Harry. Harry, Harry." Adelaide was suddenly there, arms around him, touch gentle, everything that _would not_ keep him together in that moment, and it was over, done, the tears slicking down his cheeks again, the sobs tearing through his throat as Adelaide led him back to the sofa. And then they were sitting, and his forehead was on her shoulder, fingers twisted into her uniform, and he was gasping through his tears, barely able to breathe from the crushing weight on his chest.

How, how... _how_ did he do this? He'd been with Ma his whole life. When he was alone, he had Ma. When she was alone, she had him. They were equal parts; more than a mother, but his best friend. Now he was alone, and what did he do? Where did he go? How did he function without someone to come home to? Without someone to _care_?

Adelaide's fingers swept through his hair, smoothing it away from his face. "Shh shh shh. It'll be alright. I know it doesn't feel like it. It'll take a long time, and it'll be... like, like walking through hell," he said wryly. "But you can do it. We can do it, Harry. I know we can."

"I wasn't sure what you two wanted, so I..." Doyle's voice, in the doorway, trailed off.

Oh, strike him down where he _sat_.

"... On second thought, I just noticed I left the biscuits. I'm going to go get them," Doyle said quickly, and his footsteps moved away from the room.

Harry raised his head away from Adelaide's shirt enough to rub his fingers beneath his eyes. "Oh no. Now it's all over," he joked halfheartedly, and rubbed his nose on the back of his hand.

Adelaide breathed out what might have been a laugh, her hand settling comfortably at the back of his neck. "It's just Doyle. That's not the end of the world."

"Not true. The man's a writer. Have you seen the types of torturous things he writes? He has to take inspiration from someone's misfortunes."

"Houdini," Adelaide chastised lightly, but Harry barely noticed over the feel of her fingers combing through the hair at the base of his neck. "Doyle would never do that."

He closed his eyes and smiled gently. "I know," he murmured, and made to pull away. He didn't want to, not really, but he needed to. Sitting up straight helped the illusion that he was going to be okay. And who knew. Maybe he would be. One day.

Adelaide smiled reassuringly, then turned away to rummage through her things for something. She turned back with a handkerchief and held it out to him.

"Thanks," he muttered, turning away slightly to blow his nose.

Doyle showed up in the doorway again just then, peering around like some kid about to steal from the sweets cupboard.

Harry sighed, wiping his nose. "You can come back," he said, waving him in. "I've finished having a moment, thanks."

There was no smile. "I'd think you're entitled to quite a few moments," Doyle said, instead, placing a tray of biscuits next to the teapot he must have brought in minutes ago.

Harry swallowed. "Yeah? Maybe." He muttered the last half under his breath, and then addressed Doyle again. "Is that tea for drinking, or just looking at?" With that, he pushed himself unsteadily to his feet and crossed the room. It sounded good, all of a sudden, after the crying spell. He pushed the black bordered stationary out of the way and set a cup down, reaching for the teapot.

"I thought I'd just look at it," Doyle replied, eyebrows lifting in casual humour.

"It is a nice set. Mama had good taste," Houdini said quietly, pouring a cup. He pretended that his hands did not shake. He cleared his throat slightly, and pushed the cup in front of Doyle. "... Thanks for coming by," he mumbled.

"We're here if you need anything."

"Yeah." Houdini shifted, reaching for a biscuit in the unbearable silence. He spun around, looking at Adelaide. "Do you want the usual?" he asked, a little too quickly and a little too loudly. Neither of them said anything about it.

"That'll be fine," she replied, and Harry busied himself with preparing a cup for the good constable as well.

It was something to do. Something to keep his mind on. Despite the way that his heart had sank to his toes when he had opened the door to find Adelaide and Doyle standing there, he was now genuinely happy to have their company.

Maybe, for the next indeterminate amount of time, it wouldn't be so difficult. Maybe, so long as they were there, it would be... not good. He wasn't going to be _good_ for some time. But if not good, then maybe... okay. Which was more than he'd had ten minutes ago.

For now, ‘okay’ would be fine, and Harry settled down again, two of his friends by his side and a cup of tea in each of their hands. For now, this was very ‘okay’ indeed.

**Author's Note:**

> [I don't really think he wouldn't tell them, but also he'd be in such a state, and burial is supposed to occur within 72 hours. (Even if her burial _was_ actually delayed so Houdini could see her a final time, in reality...) So I wanted to write it that way.]


End file.
